


Tobacco

by Web7777



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, P.T. Barnum is very gay for Phillip Carlyle, Post Film, Smoking, teenage rebellion at the ripe age of 25 courtesy of phillip carlyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Web7777/pseuds/Web7777
Summary: The Ringmaster slips out for a breath of fresh air during an evening rehearsal, his predecessor decides to join him. To see Carlyle smoking was a surprise, to say the least.





	Tobacco

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic ever :) In this:   
> \- P.T. still works at the circus  
> \- Charity has died in unspecific circumstances because P.T. Barnum is not cheating on her in my fic.
> 
> Enjoy :D

Phillip, no matter whether he was in rags, coat tails, or even his ringmaster get up, always looked as if he was prepared to break into song. It was something Barnum had always liked about him, even in his foulest moods he just made the atmosphere around him tinted with music. Even leaning against the rusted railings of the dock, bitter wind painting his face a ruddy red which made him look younger. Barnum smiled with affection.

“Unfortunately, we don’t make enough money to furline our costumes yet.” 

The result was immediate. Carlyle jumped, spinning around with a momentary look of terror on his face (Phineas once again wanted to find Carlyle’s father and do things that would land him in jail for a long time), before relief returned to him. This spectacular performance almost, almost, (almost), made him miss the smoke curling around the younger man’s right hand, and a box of matches he guessed he ‘borrowed’ off the fire eaters. 

“P.T! Isn’t it your set next?” The boy asked, their eyes locking as Carlyle brought the cigarette to his lips, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhaled. It looked wrong to Barnum, his sensible partner (he’d never dare say innocent, nor suggest he lacked experience in deviancy. On their first meeting, he had watched him have seven shots after all.), smoke flowing from his lips like a proper ruffian boy. 

“Anne and W.D needed more time to work on that trick with the batons. What an excellent idea, with the fire…!” He stopped himself from getting too excited, before he forgot to address the matter at hand. That had always been a problem with him. Carlyle had managed to take another drag in the meantime and Barnum had to shove down how much he craved to breathe in the same smoke as his friend, to distract his mouth other than inhaling herbs, to allow himself the one thing he had denied wanting. 

That wasn’t the point. The point was, despite Carlyle technically being a grown man, Barnum didn’t want him to take to this as he had to drinking. A ringmaster was no good if he couldn’t breathe deeply enough to dance. 

Damn. In the time he was thinking Carlyle had finished half of it and was smiling at him as he always did when Barnum got lost in his own thoughts. 

“Come on. You can’t honestly believe I’m going to have my number two picking up a habit like that, do ya?” How bashful Phillip’s expression was was very unbecoming of the ringmaster costume. In spite of this, he looked so adorable, he looked all of fourteen years of age. 

“Picking up? Posh boys usually start trying their father’s pipe by the time they have more than one tutor.” At least his smart mouth hadn’t gone, Phineas would feel way too fatherly (and even more perverted) otherwise. With two snappy steps, he entered Carlyle’s personal space and swiped the cigarette from his mouth. 

 

“Well, posh boy, no more smoking.” Barnum smirked, seeing the way Carlyle pouted, then tried not to pout, then settled on frowning. The smoke floated between them. Barnum could almost picture Carlyle and some public school boy doing the same thing in the toilets, peeking out to make sure no schoolmasters were nearby. His smirk folded into a smile. 

He wrapped an arm around Carlyle, kissing his hair in a way that could almost be mistaken for overly friendly if Barnum was unaware he looked at his partner like a love struck fool. Carlyle no longer froze up as if he was being attacked when shown affection, that was progress in one respect, but Barnum felt warm like whiskey at that moment - the boy had leaned into him. 

He shoved him gently towards the tent. 

“Get moving, Carlyle, before I break out the cane.” 

His red tails flapped as the sensible owner of the circus sighed dramatically and wandered in, muttering about ‘50/50’ and ‘I’m twenty five for god’s sake’. Phineas hadn’t been so in love since Charity, which by logic meant he was in love with two angels. Missing her almost felt the same as longing for him. 

Once he heard Carlyle rehearsing his latest announcement (apparently it was a precise science to shout ‘red, revelling, raging, rocking runts of Redland!’ in a classy way), Barnum brought the cigarette to his lips. The gesture reminded him of the railroads, raising himself in a cargo train cart with too many gaps, going through packet on packet of tobacco because somebody had stolen his blanket and he was convinced if he became any colder he’d die. If the calm he had felt reminded him of the joy he felt the first time he saw Charity laugh, that was his business. 

As was the taste of Carlyle’s expensive tobacco reminding him of Carlyle straightening his tie as he grinned like the child neither of them was allowed to be. As he reached the end, the smoke grew warm, he ground the cigarette under his boot. A pretty, rich boy like Phillip Carlyle was too good to smoke tobacco like some street child; he also should never be allowed to grow so cold he needed to. 

P.T. Barnum resolved to buy his boy a tin of the finest cocoa money could buy, put on his top hat and returned home.


End file.
